Weeks before I came over here, I was having problems sleeping; I suppose caused in part by my excitment, partly by the overwhelming anticipation and partly by dread of the unknown (I am a big fat old scaredy-cat). But even after I arrived here and found that everything was fine (as the rational part of my brain knew it would be), I still haven't got back into a regular sleeping pattern. Every morning at around 5.00am, ping! Awake. Basically, right now I am being propped up by the towering Berocca stash I was careful to bring over with me. That and the general buzz of the city, which your nerves are plugged into every waking moment. I do love this place.
The first thing I am aware of when I wake up is the low hum of Manhattan and the distant din of the traffic, dulled by my earplugs. Occassionally I am woken by the sound of sirens and garbage truck horns (man, those garbage men love to lean on those babies), but I am high enough up not to be too disturbed by the street noise.
And the last thing I see at night are the lights of the city twinkling through the fine blinds. In a bid to make my room a little bit more of a sanctuary, a lavender candle burns next to two pretty glass ornaments bought at the Falling Water gift shop.
I just discovered the "secret" roof terrace too, which offers a brilliant 360 degree view of the city (if you walk all the way around), and an arresting close-up view of the top of the Empire State.
I feel like I'm living in a waking dream. Maybe that's why I'm not sleeping so well.